


Plaything

by TearoomSaloon



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Come Marking, Empress Rey, Empress Rey is a size queen, Exhibitionism, F/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessiveness, Public Humiliation, Public Nudity, Rey is the dom, Senator Ben Organa, Smut, don't question her wants and she treats you well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 20:02:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7188092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TearoomSaloon/pseuds/TearoomSaloon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Empress had needs, and when she made demands, she was not one to be questioned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plaything

**Author's Note:**

> This is two AUs that shouldn't have come together but did.
> 
> I got a prompt (that I filled like an asshole) and a followup to that (which I probably didn't fill correctly) and the end result is really porny. Nothing but smut has been happening on the [sideblog](http://saloontime.tumblr.com/) and I'm just...there's a lot.

He had to will himself not to be as embarrassed as he felt.

No, this was some other level of horrifying, and there was no way to escape the heat climbing up his throat, cheeks hot and chest flushed. This was downright _embarrassing_. There was no denying the Empress what she wanted.

She was content listening to the ideas being pitched to her until she wasn’t, boredom leaking into her gaze until her eyes glazed over, tuned out from the tedious in-fighting and constant bickering from both sides. She was to moderate, but since politicians were little better than animals, she was forced to sit back and try to discourage the growing chaos. In the middle of a small gala.

This left her noticeably annoyed, and when annoyed, she tended to be…reckless.

She beckoned him to her and he obeyed, little else to do but follow her lead. One hand trailed down the seam of his robes before she shrugged and pushed his two outermost layers from his shoulders, motioning for one of the staff to take them away elsewhere.

“What are you doing?” he hissed as she picked her way down his shirt, unfastening the clasps until his chest was bare.

“Having a little fun.” She wet her fingers and pinched one of his nipples, rolling it under her touch until it puckered. “ _Relax_ , Ben.”

“You are _undressing me_  in _public_.”

“You’re not stopping me.”

No, he wasn’t, because he wasn’t _stupid_. She was a real tyrant when she got denied a pleasure. So he let her continue this quest, her hands groping at his pecs, streaking down the flat expanse of his stomach, coming to rest at the tops of his hips.

He groaned softly and unintentionally when she cupped him through the material of his pants, brain panicked but intrigued. She _couldn’t_  do that here, Empress or not. “Excited?”

“You’re going to destroy any credibility I have on the Senate floor if you—”

“ _No one is watching_.” She gave a squeeze for good measure and he had to fight a moan. “Besides, I’d love to _show you off_.”

Without waiting for a response, she undid his pants just enough to pull out his rapidly swelling cock. In public. At a _gala._ In front of _all his peers._

“They know you’re mine, _Senator_ ,” she purred smoothly, rolling her thumb over his tip. This was not happening. “Aren’t you proud of how _big_  you are?”

At that taunt, he willed himself to look down, to stare fixedly at the way her smaller hand stroked languidly up his length, making him appear larger than he was. He liked her hand there, liked it better when he watched himself disappear into her mouth, but she had power here and would not lower herself to her knees.

“Later,” she said quietly, other hand splayed on his belly, feeling his muscles tighten as his breath hitched. “Be glad I don’t tie you up nude and have you eat me out right now.”

 _Force_  that sounded hot, pleasing her in front of so many people, proof that _he_ was her favorite, the one she’d picked. Only _he_  satisfied her needs.

“And that’s what you’re doing right now,” she said as she intercepted his thoughts through their bond. “Moan, Ben. Draw attention. Let me show you off.”

He crumpled against her, head lying on her shoulder as he gave in to this weird game she wanted to play. He didn’t fight the groan from his lungs when she stroked him in a _very_  particular way, stimulating just below the head while ghosting across the tip. He was certain people had noticed now. Well, at least now the rumors about the Empress being a size queen could be confirmed as truth.

“You’ve been a good boy,” she whispered before nipping his ear. “Do you want me to bury you in my mouth?”

He nodded, afraid of how his voice would sound, if it would be needy or nervous

“Let’s go, then. I want you to come on my stomach, enough that I smell like you when I return later.”

She kept her hold on him as she led him from the ballroom, grip ginger and soothing, little tugs punctuated with slow strokes. And he let her guide him like that, his face flushed and mind elsewhere. He pictured it, her coming back to the gala, standing on the floor with the scent of his cologne and sweat on her skin, little drops of dried cum on her neck, in her hair. No one would say a word, would risk it lest she decided execution was in order. He was half convinced she’d mount him in the middle of a conference, continuing on discussion as though nothing were happening.

“I would,” she admit. “Don’t give me any ideas.”

He followed her back to her quarters, her grip changing to lead him by the hand when he complained about the cold. Her eyes were wicked when she refastened his pants, tilting her head to indicated she wanted him to kiss her. She was soft and gentle for all of a moment, hands loose in his decorated hair before she tugged and bit and detangled herself, locking her fingers with his and dragging him along.

The door to her quarters closed and she softened, but only a little, cupping his jaw with one hand. “You always look so disheveled when you’re in my rooms, Senator Organa.”

He turned his head to kiss her palm. “Whose fault is that?”

“Mine.” She rose on her toes to suck a red mark on the side of his neck. “Because you’re mine.”

He winced. “That will be visible for a few days.”

“Good. The more marked you are, the better.” She took his hands again, leading him through the halls to the bedroom, pushing him down onto his back. She didn’t climb atop, instead opting to hover over him, drawing slow patterns on the exposed strip of his stomach. “Will you be good for me, Ben?”

He nodded, knowing it was best not to reach for her now, not to pull her down on top of him and kiss her senseless. She had two moods behind closed doors—dangerously aggressive and overwhelmingly affectionate. Today was not an affectionate day, and he’d rather not wake a sleeping nexu.

“Will you do anything I ask?”

“Yes, princess.”

She frowned, but he knew that was one of the few pet names she’d accept. He’d addressed her as Princess for the first year they’d interacted for she’d yet to ascend, and the title brought back some level of nostalgia, a reminder of their long and painfully torrid courtship.

With her hands on his thighs, she motioned for him to back up so his head was on the pillows, the scent of her shampoo and lotion crowding his senses. She rekindled his attention when she climbed up next to him, pushing at the shoulders of his shirt, indicating she wanted that off. Instead of doing it herself, she left the job to him and slipped her fingers into the waistband of his pants, already knowing what she’d find.

“You’re rather large, Ben,” she said softly, freeing his cock to lie on his stomach. She crept up between his thighs, lying down on his chest and staring at him with darkly lustful eyes, her bottom lip sucked between her teeth. “How much of you should I take into my pretty little mouth?”

The dirty talk would be his death, blood rushing up to his embarrassed cheeks. “As much as you want.”

“That’s not a concrete answer.”

“I don’t know, all of it.”

That grin of hers grew wicked. “ _All of you?”_

He’d sealed his fate.

She slithered off him, standing at the foot of the bed to strip of her ensemble. She might want to get her skin and hair filthy, but she had a tic about clean and pristine clothes. On herself, of course—she’d made him return to the Senate with her wetness slicked on his robes more than once.

 _Filthy girl_ , how had he _ever_  gotten ahold of her attention?

Pulling his pants all the way off and to the floor, she settled herself between his legs, hands stroking up his thighs as she admired him. She looked divine there, nipples perked on small but supple breasts, eyes gazing down with a hedonistic mix satisfaction and indulgent fantasies. He subconsciously spread his legs further, muscles quivering when she worked her hands down the soft inner spot just below his groin.

She took his length into her hand, moving it away to kiss up the line of hair to his navel, pressing her face into his stomach. “I’m going to run you ragged.”

The words made him shiver, back arching just a little when she gave him a squeeze, laughter tickling from the back of her throat. Steady above him, she brought him into her mouth, sucking his tip until the first moan left on his breath. She took him deeper after that, her pace torturously slow. One hand stayed on his shaft to mimic her direction, the other slid back to his leg, rubbing circles where his hip met his thigh, edging ever closer to (but not quite reaching) his balls. 

With a long lick up the underside of his cock, she kissed his tip and plunged down, taking his full length into her mouth. The sudden heat of it had him jerk his hips and he groaned, hands searching out hers, She swatted him away, bobbing with a slow and steady pace. Torturous pace. Too languid to make him do much but curl his toes and cry.

He whined when she stopped abruptly, clawing for her to go _back_ , oh _gods_  he was close, and he  _needed her_.

“Sit up in the pillows, Ben.”

He scrambled backwards into a semi-lounged position, chest heaving with pent-up arousal. He knew he must have looked redder than her lipstick, his throat and shoulders flushing the closer he got to release. When she went back down on him, he had to restrain a choked sob, the heat of her mouth pleasant and _wonderful._

Kriff, he was utter soup and molding clay in her hands.

Her pace increased, he descended into a world of moans and frantic pleads, his voice strangled and breath too heavy, fingers and toes twitching with need. His head whipped to one side, breathing turning into quick sobs. His hands were certainly tangled in her hair, but he wasn’t completely aware they existed; he only knew she was there, her mouth his world.

“Rey, I’m…”

With incredible reflexes, she took his hips and flipped them around so she lay beneath him. He rose on his knees and lasted all of one more stroke of her hand before he came, spilling from her neck to her stomach, mind blissfully gone with the feeling of her.

She was stroking her hands over his thighs and up his hips when the white nothingness faded and in came the dreamy sleepiness. “Clean your mess.”

He nodded hazily, dropping to lick his tongue up her smooth belly, paying extra attention to the mess on her breasts. She stopped him at her collarbone, would leave what little lay above on her skin until she turned in for the night. Kissing him sweetly, she lured him down into the sheets, peppering his jaw and cheeks until he looked more than half asleep.

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” she said softly and pecked his forehead. “Should I let you sleep?”

“No.” He shook his head, body heavy. “I want to please you too.”

“Good answer.”

One last kiss and she left his side, dressing quickly and disappearing from her rooms. He smiled to himself, burying his face in the pillows, in the scent of her, before drifting to sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Oh...no. Do I....do I write _more_ for this weird combo AU?


End file.
